Chapter 59
A few hours ago.
Ezra moved slowly through the forest, the weight of silence pressing against his shoulders. The canopy above smothered the moonlight, leaving only faint streaks of silver cutting through the leaves. Every step echoed unnaturally, as though the woods themselves were watching him.
Ahead, a dull red glow seeped between the trees. It pulsed faintly, beckoning him closer.
Ezra's gaze sharpened. He knew what lay at the heart of that light.
The sword.
But simply finding it was not enough. To claim it, he would have to enter its domain—the mental realm where nothing but pure swordsmanship held meaning. No mana, no tricks, no borrowed strength. Only the edge, only skill.
Daelen had once fought for two whole days inside such a trial before the blade acknowledged him. Even then, he had barely survived.
Ezra stepped into the clearing.
